


Two Peas in a Pod

by taylorann14



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Ballet, Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Bisexual John, Bullying, Fluff, Happy Ending, Homophobic Language, John Plays Rugby, M/M, Teenlock, balletlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorann14/pseuds/taylorann14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is a new student, he's a rugby player. He's a closeted bisexual.<br/>Sherlock Holmes is seen as a freak, but John doesn't understand why.<br/>The two form an unlikely friendship that blossoms into something beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John meets Sherlock completely on accident. He's rather intrigued by the boy and decides to befriend him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://33.media.tumblr.com/46a0f113939177334701f6a50a1ac6b1/tumblr_mtjrisr4bs1r0z1h8o5_500.gif 

Breathing heavily, John ran down the hallway, turned the corner, and ducked into the first open door he found. He immediately took cover between the wall and the open door, hoping that if they came in, they wouldn't see him right away at least. He stayed silent as he heard the stampede of his teammates running past the door until eventually their footsteps faded. He let out a deep breath and snickered to himself. The only way to be initiated onto the rugby team was to pull a prank and oh had his been perfect... he only hoped his teammates wouldn't be too hasty to seek revenge.  
Stepping out from behind the door, he was greeted by the sight of a tall, slender figure standing in the doorframe, staring at him with an almost menacing look on his face. “What are you doing in here?” he demanded.  
“Ah! Sorry, mate, I thought this room was empty...” he glanced around, noticing for the first time where he was. The school's dance studio.  
“If you're going to hit me, or yell at me, or whatever it is those apes have sent you here to do, get it over with and get out. I've no time for games, I have to rehearse.” he spat.  
“Hit you? Why would I-- No. Why would I do that?”  
“Well, then... Get out. I'm practicing.” The boy snapped; he restarted the music and gracefully moved about the room and began moving in a way John could only describe as captivating. Dumbfounded, he hastily walked out, taking a final glance at the elegantly dancing boy as he left. 

Later in the week, after practice, John and 4 of his teammates went to Philip's house for beers. Philip Anderson lived with his older brother, away from his parents, so his was the place they went for drinks. John discreetly declined the drink, but came along for the laughs.  
“Oi! You'll never guess what I got!” Phillip laughed, reaching into his bag. The boys eyed him curiously as he pulled out a pair of ballet slippers; they went wild at the sight. “I nicked 'em while he was otherwise occupied,” he gave a wink to Sebastian and tossed the shoes into the bin.  
“Whose shoes are those?” John asked. He had a feeling he already knew the answer to that question.  
“There's this kid, Twinkle Toes. He's a BALLET DANCER,” he said the words as if they were filth on his tongue. “One of those fags. Real dick, too. Unsurprisingly.”  
That hit John like a slap to the face, “And you took his shoes?” John asked, pulling his best poker face.  
“Yup,” he opened another beer.  
John just shot him a confused look and took a drink of his water, saying no more on the subject.  
As the night progressed, most of the boys were so drunk they could hardly see straight. So when John bid his friends a goodnight, he acted on impulse and grabbed the shoes that had been tossed in the trash and shoved them in his bag. 

He stopped by the dance studio the following afternoon. He knocked out of courtesy before opening the door. “Hey, uh... I think I have something that belongs to you.” John mentioned, holding up the worn pair of slippers.  
“Where did you find those?” the boy asked defensively.  
“Honestly? One of my teammates had them. It's not right stealing another man's shoes, so I figured... I'd return them. Are they yours?”  
“Yes.. Thanks. That was not necessary.” He took them from John's outstretched hand, slowly turning them over in his hands, examining them carefully.  
“Don't worry about it, a lot of those guys are dicks.” he sneered. “What's your name, by the way?”  
“Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.”  
“Hi. John Watson,” he extended a hand.  
The boy looked confused and slightly alarmed, but shook his hand anyway. “If they figure out you did that, or see you talking to me... I'm sure they'll give you hell for the rest of eternity.”  
“Why would they do that?”  
“You really don't know who I am?”  
John shook his head, “Should I? I mean... Do you know who I am?”  
A light flickered in Sherlock's eyes as he stared for a few seconds. “John Watson. New student, on the rugby team. Obvious. You moved here a few months ago because your sister is an alcoholic and she's going to the rehab facility near campus. Your parents are contemplating divorce, but are trying to stay together for the sake of their children. More for her sake, I imagine you'd rather them get it over with. I'm guessing rugby was your dad's thing and your mother worries constantly about it. You never drink at parties, which, if your mother knew that, she would be elated, but you're worried your friends will notice and ask you about it.”  
Once the words were out of his mouth, Sherlock immediately recoiled.  
“Sorry.”  
“That was... fantastic. How'd you know all that, I'm pretty sure my rugby mates don't even know that! That was spot on! Are you a family friend, do you know Harry?” he asked.  
“Harry?”  
“Harriet, my sister?”  
“Oh. No. I just... observed.”  
“Sherlock, you're seriously brilliant!”  
“That's not the reaction my deductions usually get.”  
“That would be..?”  
“Fuck off.” he stated plainly.  
John laughed. “Well. That was truly amazing.”  
Sherlock got that confused look on his face again. He cleared his throat,“Well, I should get back to, ehrm...”  
“Right. Right. I'll see you around!” John flashed a smile and with that was out the door.  
Sherlock stood staring at nothing in particular for a moment before he crossed the room to start the music. His heart was pounding and yet somehow he felt... lighter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns to the ballet studio and tries to talk to this mysterious boy. At first, Sherlock's kind of a dick, but he has every reason to be. Who would be kind to him? There must surely be something behind it...

Only two days passed before John found himself wandering down the hall toward the dance room.  
“Hey!” he greeted him with a smile.  
Sherlock jumped at the sound of the unexpected voice, he usually wasn't bothered when he practiced. “Oh... hello. What.. are you doing here? Do you... need something?”  
“No? No. I just wanted to say hey.”  
“Oh...” Sherlock furrowed his brow.  
“Why is it that you think I have some ulterior motive whenever I talk to you?”  
“No one is just nice to me for the sake of being nice. You want something.”  
“I'm not being nice to be nice, or because I want something. I'm being nice because I like you.”  
Sherlock stared, wide-eyed for only a moment before he regained his composure. He was sure that John noticed though, the way the corner of his mouth twitched up, as if he were fighting a smile. Sherlock tilted his head slightly, “No... What's the actual reason?”  
“Is it so far-fetched that I find you fascinating?”  
“Well... yes.” Sherlock replied.  
The words he spoke left a pain in John's chest. “If you're worried about it, I'm not going to just avoid talking to you because a couple guys on the team might possibly be rude about it. I don't really give a fuck what they think.”  
Sherlock's cheeks reddened and he smiled for the first time in John's presence. It was an embarrassed, awkward smile and yet.. John was dazzled.

From then on, John made it a regular part of his weekly routine to visit Sherlock. He would come to the studio after rugby practice some days and just talk to him. Sometimes it was for a few minutes, sometimes John even stayed to watch Sherlock warm up. If he was lucky, Sherlock would dance. Eventually, John visited so regularly that Sherlock stopped being so cautious and even managed to relax a bit. Days when Sherlock would dance were John's personal favorites. Sherlock, in turn, appreciated the days they would chat. Usually he hated talking to people, he found their conversations mundane and empty, but when he spoke to John, he actually found himself interested in what the other boy had to say. They had their reasons for enjoying the other's company, and that's why John kept coming back. At first it was sporadic, he visited when he felt like it, but over time, he came more consistently, never skipping more than a couple days without at least saying hello.

“You wanna go out later? Catch a movie?” he said one day.  
Sherlock looked like he'd been shocked. He wondered if he'd just been asked on a date, but quickly rationalized, reminding himself of the unlikelihood of his interest due to John's prior conquests with girls as well as the fact that Sherlock was neither normal nor appealing in any way. “I... don't go to the movies.” he replied after a moment.  
“What do you do, then?”  
“Erm... I dance, obviously. And solve crimes.” he managed.  
“Crimes? So you want to be a detective?”  
Sherlock swallowed hard. “I already am.”  
“What?” John raised an inquisitive eyebrow.  
“Lestrade, the new DI at Scotland Yard. He lets me help on cases.”  
“How? I mean you haven't got the proper training.”  
“I... see things that other people don't see,” he said quietly.  
“What are you talking about?”  
“Like how I could tell your parents are headed for divorce and you've got an older, alcoholic sister from just looking at you. And how I know my ballet instructor is having an affair with the History teacher across the hall, but also with the French teacher on the next floor, and they each think they are special and really she is just playing them for their money. Among other things... Things people don't ordinarily pick up on, at least not right away. I see things in the photos from the crime scenes that other people don't. Lestrade was across from me at a cafe and he had all the photos spread out... I discreetly observed them for a couple minutes from where I sat, got up, told him whoever owned the necklace she was wearing was the murderer. When I turned out to be right-- after he questioned me-- I think he was honestly impressed. Sometimes he let's me in on some of the cases he can't solve."  
John stared and blinked a few times, his mouth slightly agape. “You're serious, you're like an actual detective? You can't be more than 18 years old.”  
“17.” he corrected. “It's not difficult for me. It's good for me to have something to focus on.”  
“Brilliant. You're absolutely brilliant.”  
Sherlock blushed furiously and tried to stifle the smile that was threatening to shine through. His face fell only moments later. “I'm really not.” And he believed it. Images swirled in his head of classmates shoving him into walls, people calling him freak, their faces when he deduced something they didn't want to know.  
John's voice snapped him out of his spiral, “But you are! You're brilliant... The whole team of officers at Scotland Yard work on something for days and have no leads, and YOU are the one they come to! It must feel incredible. Doing that for other people.” Sherlock just stared into John's eyes as if he were a puzzle that needed figuring out. He wondered if he should change the subject.  
“So you don't do movies, I don't solve crimes. Why don't we watch a movie about a murder mystery?” John teased.  
“Tedious.”  
“A cafe?” he suggested.  
“Really, John?”  
“What! We can sit, have a chat... you can _deduce_ everyone around us, it'll be fun.”  
“Fun...” he tried the word out.  
“Look, if you don't want to, just say so.”  
Sherlock hesitated. His brain told him to say no, to not allow any contact with this boy outside of what he had to at school, so he had no explanation as to why he said, “...Fine. I'll go. We can meet at the cafe on Baker Street after school.”  
“Cool. I gotta run, but I'll see you there!” Then there was that smile again. That smile that somehow gave Sherlock that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. He told himself that it was silly, people's facial expressions couldn’t elicit a physical response. He looked up to respond to John, but he was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god. I really appreciate every single person giving me Kudos and whatnot. You're all the bomb dot com.  
> I'm loving writing this... Like... AU's are amazing because you get a little bit of freedom. I get to imagine what John and Sherlock would be like in their late teens, and how their relationship might have developed under these circumstances. ** Also, In this AU, Speedy's is just a little farther down on Baker Street.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets John at Speedy's café after school and they run into Lestrade. Who, at first, thinks they're on a date. Which they're not of course,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a long chapter. I am just thrilled at the positive feedback! I love you all.

Sherlock sat inside Speedy's and absentmindedly chewed at the inside of his cheek. Every time he realized he was doing it, he stopped, but eventually started up again somehow. His mind was racing faster than his heart was beating, which was an impressive feat, as his heart was pounding and going so fast it was threatening to leap out of his chest. His breath hitched when John walked over and sat down across from him. “Hey! Sorry I'm late, it was farther than I thought to get here. Do you live around here? It's a bit far from the school.”  
“Yeah I live on this street, actually.”  
“Isn't there another school right down that way?” he gestured down toward the next main street.  
“Yes... My brother went there. I wanted no part of that legacy. So I opted for a farther commute.”  
“Do you not get on with your brother?”  
“He wasn't even there when I would have started. He was just... well known at that school.” he chose his words carefully, “I didn't want to be associated with him. He thinks he's smarter than I am.”  
“I doubt anyone's smarter than you are.”  
“While I appreciate the compliment, I'm sure it's because you've spent most of your life around idiots.” he replied with nonchalance.“I didn't... I mean.. That's not...”  
John laughed, he knew he should probably be a little bit insulted, but he was more amused than anything else. “Sherlock, it's fine. You are right on that, most of the people I know aren't too bright.”  
A look of bewilderment crossed Sherlock's face.  
“You look surprised.” John commented.  
“I am.”  
“Why?”  
“You're not like ordinary people.”  
This time it was John that blushed. It felt like an immense compliment coming from someone like him. He smiled and shook his head slightly, “What do you want to drink?”  
“I'm fine.”  
“I'm getting you a drink, so you might as well tell me what you want.”  
“Tea, two sugars.”  
John winked and walked off to the counter. _'Oh god,'_ he thought to himself. Had he just winked? He turned an embarrassing shade of scarlet, ordering the drinks hastily.  
“Sherlock!” a voice boomed from the entrance.  
The man walked over to him and lowered his voice, “Thank god you're here. I've got something you should take a look at.”  
“Lestrade, I'm actually.. I--”  
“Hello.” John said, phrasing his greeting like a question.  
“Oh! Sherlock are you on a date?” Lestrade grinned.  
“No!” he said quickly.  
John sat down and placed the tea in front of Sherlock and sipped at his own, avoiding any eye contact with Lestrade.  
“Oh... Sorry. Erm... Well I've got this case. They're saying suicide but something didn't sit right with me, I wanted your thoughts.”  
It was like a light switch was turned on. Sherlock's usually collected and (sometimes) shy demeanor practically melted away. His eyes shone as he read through the file Lestrade had given him and John could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “This was at her home, I presume?”  
“Yeah.”  
He asked a few more questions John didn't quite understand the meaning behind, but once he was finished with his inquiries, he closed the file. “Talk to the brother, the one who filed the missing person's report a few days ago. Ask him about the family fortune, as you were bound to do anyway. Then ask him about his niece: the victim's daughter. I imagine he'll crack at the mention of her.”  
“Seriously?”  
Sherlock nodded. “You'll see soon enough.”  
Lestrade nodded, thanked him, and was gone.  
Sherlock turned back to John to apologize for the interruption, and found himself being looked at in a way no one had looked at him before. He wished he could read John's mind, he hated when he couldn't read someone's expressions or body language, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why John was looking at him like that.  
“You're extraordinary.” John breathed. The words were out of his mouth before he could think about how it would sound. He was utterly awestruck at the talents of the boy who sat across from him.  
Sherlock blushed and looked down at his hands. “People usually just call me a freak.”  
John knew he was trying to play it off like it was a joke, like he didn't care, but the look in Sherlock's eyes said otherwise. It broke his heart. “They're idiots... they're wrong.” John said softly.  
Sherlock almost smiled. He looked at John like he was trying to figure him out, and John never really understood what Sherlock was searching for when he was under the intense stare. _' **You're** extraordinary,'_ Sherlock thought to himself. He let his eyes fall and he settled on taking another drink of his tea, reminding himself to stop being so sentimental.  
John then piped up, “So I know you said you don't go to the movies, but are you at least going to see the new Bond film next weekend?”  
Sherlock shook his head.  
“Everyone is going! You should come. Wait.... Please tell me you've at least SEEN a Bond movie.”  
Another shake of his head.  
“Okay clear your schedule this weekend, you're coming over and we're having a marathon.”  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, but he was secretly pleased at the invitation. Somehow John's propositions didn't bore him as much as other peoples' activities seemed to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The doorbell rang and John went to answer. “Sherlock!” he exclaimed. “Come on in! Welcome to Chez Watson. Parents are god knows where and, well, you know where Harry is. He pointed as he quickly walked through the house, “Kitchen, bathroom, parents' room, Harry's room.” He walked upstairs “And this is my room. I have my own little bathroom up here which is nice. It's not much, but it's home!” John was babbling.  
Sherlock just shot him a reassuring smile and followed him into his room. The movie was already in the DVD player, so John hit play and sat down on his bed. The room was small, just a bed, a wardrobe, and a small desk on one side. The TV sat in front of the bed, balanced almost precariously on what was meant to be a makeshift entertainment center. It resembled a nightstand more than anything. Sherlock sat on the extreme opposite side of the bed; while John was reclined against the headboard, he was perched on the corner of the foot of the bed. John laughed, rendering Sherlock instantly self conscious. “What?”  
“You know, you can sit a little closer to me if you want to.” He sensed that perhaps that sounded a bit too propositional, “Take your shoes off, stay awhile.”  
Sherlock did as he was told, removing his shoes and moving so he was next to John, who threw his arm around Sherlock's shoulders and squeezed, “You're in for an experience here....” he rattled on about his extensive 007 knowledge as the movie began, but Sherlock wasn't paying John his full attention... because John's arm didn't retreat from his shoulders.  
He managed to focus on the movie long enough to catch the gist of what was happening. But anything could have been playing and he knew he would be content because John was sitting with him. He watched and tried not to think about how nice it felt to be touched. Sherlock leaned into John just slightly, hoping that he might not notice, but he did. He didn't really mind. It was actually kind of nice having someone so close. So there they sat, watching movies and for the first time, Sherlock enjoyed another person's company.

As the weeks progressed, John found that they were always touching when they were together. Always close. He wondered how many people before had really let themselves get close to Sherlock.. or how many of those people, if any, Sherlock would let close to _him_. As far as he could tell, he didn't really have any other friends, and he often found himself curious as to why Sherlock was friends with him in the first place. It was not based on intellect; while John was an intelligent student, he was far from the genius that was Sherlock Holmes. It clearly wasn't a romantic attraction, John wasn't really much to look at, in his own opinion. He was just... average. Sherlock clearly had no interest in sports. So... what was it? John pondered some days and found it easier to just accept it, because their odd friendship didn't logically make much sense.

Similarly, Sherlock didn't quite grasp why John still talked to him. He was much more comfortable with him than he had been when they first met, but a part of him was still cautious. A part of him was still whispering that warning, ' _he's going to leave. He's going to figure out what a freak you are and he will leave and hurt you just like everyone else in your life.'_ It was those nights that Sherlock wouldn't leave his room, he stayed in his dark mood and either did nothing or composed songs for his violin. He switched off his phone on nights like those and even when he ignored John, he was always there the next day, waiting for their next 'hello.'

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is BORED as usual, and John decides to come entertain him. With marshmallows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fluffy and adorable and that's basically the point of this chapter. Okay. Continue on.

9:53 pm _  
_

_John. -SH_

_JOHN. -SH_

 

9:55 pm

**Yeah?**

 

9:56 pm **  
**

_I'm bored. -SH_

 

9:59 pm

**_Entertain yourself._ **

 

10:01 pm

_I can't. -SH_   
_I'm going to shoot something. -SH_

 

10:02 pm

**I can't tell if you're serious when you say that.**

 

10:05pm

_This is dreadful there is nothing to do. -SH_

 

10:07 pm

**Where are you? I have an idea.**

 

10:08 pm

_You're at a party. -SH_

 

10:09 pm

**I know where I am. I asked where you are.**

 

10:11 pm

_Home. -SH_

  

10:13 pm

**Want some company?**

  

10:14 pm

_Again, I reiterate. You're at a party. If you leave and come here, people might talk. -SH_

 

10:15 pm

**Oh let them. They're all idiots anyway. Address?**

10:19 pm

**Sherlock. Come on. I'm bored too, you'll be doing me a favour.**

  

10:20 pm

_221B Baker Street. -SH_   
_Come at once if convenient. -SH_   
_If inconvenient, come anyway. -SH_

  

10:23 pm

**I'm on my way. Dork. ;)**

 

10:23 pm

_That's not very nice. Maybe you should stay at your boring party. -SH_

  

10:24 pm

**Oh, shut it. I really am on my way. See you soon.**

 

10:25 pm

_Allright. -SH_

10:30 pm   
  
 _You're not here yet. -SH_

  

10:32 pm

**No shit, Sherlock.**

 

10:33

 _Hurry. -SH_  

 

10:36 

_Patience._

The phone rang at 10:48. John assumed a flirtatious tone when he answered, "You just can't leave me alone, can ya?"  
"John. You don't understand I can't stand this anymore."  
"Where do you think I've been? You couldn't wait two bloody seconds."

John knocked on the door. Sherlock answered. “You stopped at home.” it wasn't a question. "You went 23 minutes out of your way when I was practically dying of boredom?"   
“I did. I wanted to bring something.”  
Sherlock quirked an eyebrow and hung up the phone. “Come in.” And he did. He set the bag he was holding on a kitchen chair and took out the two contraptions. “What are those?” Sherlock asked.  
John smirked and pulled out a bag of mini marshmallows. “Guns.”  
“Guns.” Sherlock repeated. “Guns that shoot marshmallows?”  
John nodded enthusiastically. “I got them for my birthday one year and have never had a chance to use them. I thought since you wanted to shoot something... this would be less destructive than a potato gun. Or, god forbid an actual gun.”  
“Potato guns? Those exist?”  
“Oh yes!” John said gravely. “I take my knowledge of food artillery very seriously. I have a tiny marshmallow catapult in my room.”  
“Oh my god,” Sherlock covered his eyes with his hand. “You're serious?”  
“Extremely. Choose your weapon.” Sherlock picked up a gun and John showed him how to load and shoot it. "Inside or outside?” he asked.  
“Inside. It will piss off my brother when he gets home later this week.”  
It was John who rolled his eyes this time. “Are you ready soldier?” John used his best military voice.  
Sherlock's eyes widened. He swallowed hard. “Yes, Captain,” he managed. John looked at him with a curious expression for a split second before a mischievous grin took its place. “GO!” He shouted.

Sherlock, in all his grace, dove behind the couch. He popped up and the war began. It was a disorganized flurry of yelling, laughter, and curses. Marshmallows flew all over the room and Sherlock came to learn that he was a terrible shot, missing almost every time. When John ran out of ammunition, he ran at Sherlock, grabbed him around the waist and tackled him onto the couch. Sherlock struggled to break free, picking up marshmallows off of any nearby surface and pelting them at John's face. They ended up toppling over and landing in a heap on the ground, laughing until their faces were red. “Not bored anymore, are you?” Sherlock asked, breathless.  
“God, no.” He grinned. “You?”  
“No.”  
John stood and grabbed a kleenex from the side table and waved it in the air. “Truce?”  
Sherlock nodded, finally able to breathe again. “Truce.”  
John helped him up and they both sat on the couch. “We should probably clean this up.”  
“I'll tell Mycroft it was part of an experiment, it's fine. Do you want something to drink?” Sherlock offered.  
“We could make a marshmallow milkshake.” he joked.  
“I''m fairly certain we've both had enough marshmallows for a day. Tea? Juice? Cocoa?”  
“Hot cocoa. But... on one condition,” he paused dramatically. “Only if you put marshmallows in it.”  
Sherlock dramatically rolled his eyes, “Go make it yourself. And while you're up, I'd like some tea.”  
“I'm sure you would,” he said with a sigh. “Allright, where do you keep it?”  
“Top cabinet above the oven. Actually you probably won't be able to reach it.”  
“Ha, ha. Very funny.” John went to the kitchen only to find that he really couldn't reach. He grumbled about his father and his short genes and Sherlock laughed as he made the drinks.  
They spent their evening talking... John mentioned how he was going on a little vacation with his parents and sister, and Sherlock had his big performance coming up.  
They talked until John had to go back home. He was reluctant, he much rather would have stayed longer, but it was getting late and they both needed rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of had to subtly insert Sherlock's military kink. That's something that's so canon, it has to be in every AU.  
> Thanks for reading, friends. I hope this soppy chapter wasn't so sweet it made you sick.  
> Or I hope it was.


	5. Chapter 5

The following afternoon, John set off on his way to visit Sherlock after practice, as usual when he heard one of his teammates. “John!” Sebastian called to him.  
He turned around, “Yeah?”  
“Where do you disappear to after practice? You should come with us, there's this party later tonight, there's this girl who really wants to meet you.”  
John shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, no thanks. I've got some homework to do...”  
“Oh come on!” Philip prompted. “Loosen up, you can work on your homework before class tomorrow or something. She's a real looker, you'll like her.”  
“Look, I'm sorry, I went out with you guys earlier this week and I have to do my schoolwork. I'll catch you guys tomorrow, yeah?” he waved a hand and set off toward the dance studio.  
He rounded the corner and, once he was sure they weren't going to follow him, he walked into the studio. “Hey!”  
“Hi, John,” he smiled.  
“How's your dance coming?”  
He nodded. “I just need to work on the ending a bit, but I've got most of it down.”  
John beamed, when suddenly his train of thought was derailed.  
“Oh. My. God.” Philip's voice was booming in the quiet of the studio. Terror flashed across Sherlock's face for only a fraction of a second before he stared at Philip with the composed, cold look he wore most of the time. “Watson, have you been spending your time after practice with HIM?” He sounded appalled at the mere thought.  
“I friends outside of the rugby team? What a thought.” he said sardonically.  
“Oh, John, come on. He is such an imbecile, haven't I told you before?”  
“He's my _friend_. I do not appreciate when people speak ill of my friends.” he warned.   
“I'm sensing a touch of protectiveness! Oh my, has Captain Watson found himself a BOYfriend?” he teased.  
“Well, Anderson, I'm not dating him, but I don't really see why it would be a problem if I was.”  
“HE,” Philip spat, emphasizing the pronoun, “Is a proper _FREAK_.”  
John walked toward him, shoulders squared and smoke coming out of his ears. Suddenly he was extremely grateful that Philip had come in alone, he was strong, but he was also certain he couldn't take three guys at once. He pointedly looked at Sherlock before striding closer to the boy and punching him right in the gut. He turned, grabbed Sherlock's hand, and they ran. Oh did they run. They went off campus, sprinting as fast as their legs would carry them. They went into John's flat, ran up to his room and slammed the door behind them, collapsing onto the floor, giggling like schoolgirls. As the adrenaline began to wear off, they leaned their heads against the door, trying to steady their breathing, “Sherlock, that was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done.” he sighed loudly.  
“I can't believe you actually did that. His FACE!” Sherlock erupted into another fit of laughs.  
“I like your laugh.” John remarked, blush creeping onto his cheeks.  
Sherlock just quirked his head. And he wondered why John was leaning closer to him, as they were very close already.  
 _'Oh!'_ he thought. He began to internally panic, and he jumped when he heard a loud cry of, “JOHN!” from downstairs. John froze, but didn't break eye contact.   
“Yeah?” he yelled.  
“You okay with pasta for dinner?”  
“Uh-huh.” he called back.  
Then... silence. John stood up and offered his hand to help Sherlock to his feet. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”  
He only nodded, not trusting his voice.

  
He stayed quiet through most of the meal. And after dinner with the Watsons, the pair ventured upstairs.  
“I'm sorry about earlier.” Sherlock mumbled.  
“Huh?”  
“I'm sorry your teammates thought you were gay, just because you were seen with me. I understand if you don't want to be around me at school anymore.”  
“Oh.” John shook his head, “They were going to find out sooner or later.” he shrugged.  
“W—What?” Sherlock stuttered.  
“Did you not know?”  
“You're...?” he didn't even finish the sentence.  
“Bisexual, I think...” he chuckled awkwardly. “ I'm not big on labels. I just like who I like.”  
“Oh.”  
The expression on Sherlock's face was so endearing, that he couldn't stop from breaking into a huge smile. “Seriously, Sherlock... even if I cared, I wouldn't stop hanging out with you, that's just silly.”

John's infectious smile got to him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock dances. Sherlock accidentally tells John he loves him.  
> And John's reaction is not remotely what he expected.

Sherlock swallowed hard as he looked upon the audience that had gathered. It was a school ballet recital, so it's not as though there was an epic turnout, but Sherlock rarely performed. He danced more for himself than for anyone else, but his instructor had insisted he take part. Said it would be fun.... He only agreed because she said she agreed he could dance alone. He seldom danced with a partner, and they never stuck around. Sherlock was an excellent dancer, but he was not as excellent of a socializer.  
He scanned the crowd; their view of him was obstructed by the curtains, and even if it had not been, their eyes were transfixed on the two young girls dancing on stage. Sherlock crinkled his nose in disgust when suddenly froze and his heart stopped. There, in the first row sat John Watson. He watched the girls with an affectionate smile and Sherlock's heart lept. Was it possible for a heart to stop beating and pick up beating in double time? He didn't think so, but it sure felt like it. His face lit up and he felt warmth spreading to his cheeks. "John," he breathed. He was so elated that if he had not been bound by the laws of gravity, he'd have lifted himself off the floor and floated into the sky. He knew it was a ridiculous thought, but at that moment, he didn't care.

When he finally took the stage, he didn't see the audience. He didn't care about a single thing that was happening, he danced only for John Watson. John who had accidentally stumbled into his life and become his best friend in the world. His only friend. John who had seen that Sherlock really did have a heart. John who made him FEEL despite his best efforts to stifle his emotions. He felt weightless, and when he finished, everyone applauded. Sherlock only saw John. John clapped and shot him a shit-eating grin and Sherlock exited the stage with a smile on his face.

Sherlock sat in a crowded hallway, his back against the wall, until the dancers had found their loved ones and cleared out. Only a few people remained when he heard, "Sherlock!"  
"John!" he cried, running at him and throwing his arms around his neck.   
John placed a hand on his back, surprised. "Hey, you were brilliant!"   
They stepped apart and Sherlock blushed, looking down at his feet. "Don't tell me you get all..." he made a gesture with his hands, attempting to indicate shyness, "after you dance," he joked.   
"I'm not like anything!" he defended himself, wishing he could stop his cheeks from getting redder. "I'm just so glad you're here; why are you here?"  
"Told my parents I didn't feel like France."  
"Why?"  
"It would just be all fake. All fake smiles and fake laughs for pictures and we'd go on being miserable."  
"But, it's still France," Sherlock offered.  
"It's probably not all it's cracked up to be... besides, I wanted to see you dance."  
"You're incredible, John."  
"I think you're the incredible one, I mean I've seen you practice, but..." he shook his head, "That was amazing. You looked like you were flying up there! I couldn't do that in a million years. You will never fail to impress me."  
"God, John I love y-- I mean... I'm sorry, no, I didn't--"  
"Mean it?" John finished for him.   
"Look, I--" he gasped, the air seemingly sucked from his lungs and suspended in a location unbeknownst to him, because suddenly John's lips were on his.  
' _Finally,_ ' John thought to himself.  
Sherlock felt like his insides were going to explode, the heat he felt burning in his chest could have fueled the sun, if for some reason the sun needed fueling. His thoughts were jumbled and it was chaos in his brain for just a second before he found nothing but white. Nothing but passion and tenderness and John's lips against his. John's assertive, but soft lips, kissing him. There was only this. John. John. John....  
John broke away for air, "Tell me you didn't mean it."  
Sherlock leaned his forehead on John's. His mind was beginning to spin out of control again, "Of course I meant it, I love you. I love you more than anything and everything in this world. I didn't know I was capable... I just... John, I'm afraid I might lose my head if you don't kiss me again."  
John didn't come back with a cheeky response, he didn't make a face, he'd waited long enough... he just cupped the back of Sherlock's neck and stroked the hair at the nape. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes." he gave him no time to reply, pressing his lips to Sherlock's urgently.  
John backed him against the wall, their bodies flush against eachother, which posed a problem because John REALLY did not want to stop kissing him, but they were in public and now was not the time. So John paused, pulled Sherlock up so his legs were wrapped around his middle, and resumed kissing him. He kissed deeply, and Sherlock could have sworn he could feel everything John had ever wanted to say to him in that kiss.  
He stopped when he felt Sherlock trembling slightly, he let his feet hit the floor. A few tears streaked his face as he shook slightly "Sherlock, Sherlock what's wrong?" John asked urgently.  
He shook his head and smiled, "Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm so... happy." He pulled John close to him and kissed him feverishly, exploring his mouth with his tongue. Sherlock's hands were everywhere, like he couldn't have enough of John at one time.  
John let out a groan and pulled back. "I can't, Sherl, I have to stop," he said between kisses.  
He pulled back immediately and stared at his shoes, "Sorry."  
"Jesus, Sherlock, no! No," he chuckled and lowered his voice an octave, speaking softly into his ear, "If we don't stop now, I'll have you in this hallway."  
His eyes widened and he swallowed hard. "Ah," his voice came out a bit more squeaky than he intended. "So... Am I your boyfriend now?"  
John stifled a laugh, "Sherlock, if you want me, I am all yours."  
He just placed another kiss to his lips and they left the school hand in hand, John's jacket draped over Sherlock's shoulders. They walked unashamed, smiling brighter than either of them ever had before. 

* * *

  
"John!"  
They both turned to see John's teammate, Mike Stamford, walking towards them. "Hey Mike," John said.   
"You finally did it eh?" he teased.  
"Yeah, uh... Sherlock, this is Mike. I think he knew about us before I did, to be honest. He's on the team with me. The only sensible one, it sometimes seems!" he clapped him on the back.   
Mike beamed. "Nice to meet ya, Sherlock. I'm glad he's finally acted on this. It's been far too long, him pining. I told him he should just tell ya! Anyway, I'll leave you two alone." he winked and swaggered off.   
"You're quite... adorable.. when you're embarrassed."  
"You calling me adorable is not helping!"  
"That's rather the point."   
"Oh, come here." John stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, kissed Sherlock until he was breathless, and kept on walking while Sherlock stood stunned for a few moments.   
"I'll get you back for that." Sherlock said mischievously.   
"God I hope so." John winked.   
All Sherlock could do was smile.   
He knew that his mistake, his accidental confession, was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and it was probably the best thing that ever would. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you.. For the wonderful comments/compliments. For everything. You're all one in a million. Thanks for reading!
> 
> If, for some reason, I come up with more adventures for Sherlock and his tough, rugby-playing boyfriend, I'll make this part of a series...
> 
> I think the reason I fell in love with the teenlock AU in general is because teenagers.. they seem to love with so much passion. They either have no idea what it's like to have their hearts broken, or they do and they love wholeheartedly anyway. I've met few adults who love the way young people do. With reckless abandon.  
> I think it's kind of silly that people stop loving that way. If people loved wildly, I wonder if things might be better... 
> 
> Anyway... I feel like that really intense connection (that feeling of 'oh, I love this person more than myself, more than anyone on this planet and if I lose them, I lose my world'...) that's part of what would make John and Sherlock so special. Yeah they'd have their problems and probably drive each other crazy, but they would love each other passionately at the end of the day, and that's what matters.  
> The whole point of these two, in canon, in any of the adaptations... is that they complete each other. They are two halves of a whole, and whether you see that as platonic or romantic, that's your business. But I personally feel like a love like that has so much potential... and putting John and Sherlock into a universe where they meet as teenagers, it changes so much and it somehow gives them room to grow. I personally wrote this with the BBC Sherlock characters in mind.. And I feel like if this had been the circumstances under which they'd met, maybe Sherlock wouldn't be so seemingly emotionless. Maybe they would have a better time expressing their feelings for the other. 
> 
> I feel like adult John and Sherlock would have this passion of a teenager inside of them, and they would protect eachother until their last moments.


End file.
